Chapter 2 - Meet, Jupiter (and Friends)

Another day passes, as I get up from my very unmade and messy bed. I read the vintage, digital clock next to me, stating the fact that it’s currently 8:30am. Looks like I’m going to be very late, which probably means I won’t get breakfast today. Luckily enough, I don’t need breakfast. I just need caffeine.

I quickly brew my coffee, get my clothes ironed and ready, and head to the Exon Institute for a very busy day ahead of me. And as I walk along the footpath, I see a familiar face.

It’s the one stealing the spotlight of my life recently… and I definitely know who it is.

Chapter 2

Meet, Jupiter (and Friends)

I wave to the boy from afar, dressed prim and proper, wearing an ironed suit and tie, and having very distinct hair that’s been carefully bleached. He seems to be wearing a few little trinkets on his bag, with a plush that seems to be hanging from it in the shape of a crown. He waves back. We make eye contact. Amazing social interaction.

“Good morning!” I say enthusiastically, mostly from the coffee I just drank and maybe the feeling of pure excitement from seeing your best friend again, “did you sleep well?”

“No, not really,” Jupiter replies, sounding dejected. He holds his left elbow with his right arm, almost as if he’s clutching it. We both start walking together along the footpath to the institute.

“Aw, why? Did you sleep at 2am again?”

“Maybe,” he replies. I stare intently with disappointment, playfully of course.

“Okay! Okay! Yes, I did,” he continues.

I give out an exasperated sigh and reply, “You know, if you want to feel like you have some energy in the morning and not be like a zombie like you always say you are, you’ve gotta get more sleep, man.”

“Okay, coffee man,” he says, landing a playful comeback. I don’t think I’ll be able to recover from that.

“Anyway, I was up doomscrolling and I found something yesterday,” he continues, ranting away as we both head to the entrance of the institute, “so, have you heard of The Game?”

“No..?” I reply, unaware of the consequences that are just about to occur upon me.

“Well, basically, the aim of The Game is to not think about The Game,” he says, as he makes a slight smirk after making that statement.

“What?” I reply, in confusion.

“So, basically, every time you think about The Game, you lose. If we apply that practically, that would mean I just lost the game.”

“So, I just lost the game?”

“Yeah, basically.”

“Doesn’t that mean I’ll always lose the game?”

We continue walking until we reach the daring gates of the institute, painted in matte black with a golden pattern. The institutional motto sits on the adjacent, right side of the gate, stating in bold text “Where the imaginary and logical converge”.

By the time we reached the gates, my coffee had just magically disappeared, realising that I’ve sipped all of it within just five minutes. I might be a madman.

“I need to go now,” he mentions briefly, “I think all this Biology homework is going to make me crash out one day… uh, anyway, bye!” I reply with a simple goodbye, watching as he runs away.

Now, what do I have next? Oh wait, there’s only one minute left until the bell rings. Oops.

While I’m running to my next class with only a minute left to spare, I make sure to take my steps carefully in order to not accidentally trip on the laces that have decided to undo themselves during these desperate times. As I look around the Exon Institute, I see people simply walking to their next class as if there’s so much time left before the next period. I personally don’t want to be considered late because if I am, then it will reflect really poorly on my report card. That’s the last thing I want.

Anyway, looking back at it now, this institute is quite large for a place of learning. Two round buildings with three-stories each, an auditorium for all the assemblies that are unnecessary for most of the time, and a huge library for those who really want to study after hours. There’s also a really nice cafeteria, where you can get free food — with the catch of you needing a scholarship. I usually hang around the library, since there’s a lot of books there that come in handy — especially when an exam is only an hour ‘round the corner.

And as I finally reach the door that says “Music Room 2”, I gasp for air as I open the door. Luckily enough, the bell just rang.

“You’re almost late, Pluto,” a tall, female teacher, standing high with her dark, round glasses, notices my near lateness and decides to quietly comment, “Don’t worry about it, though. Just sit down. I’m about to mark the roll.”

I sit down at my usual spot and reply with diligence, “Yes, Ms. Windhart.” Thankfully, my spot hasn’t been randomly taken by someone else in my class.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” a familiar, enthusiastic voice whispers in my ear, “we’re doing a practical assessment this term, and we need the one and only amazing Pluto to play the piano for us.” It’s Ratani.

“Can’t you find another pianist? Surely, I’m not the only one in this class,” I say lightheartedly. Awkward silence follows.

“You’re literally the only pianist in this class. And, you sing. Plus, you told me you were making an album just a few days ago,” she replies. I shrug.

“Anyway,” she continues, “Nebby and I need another person playing the chords underneath while we play the melody. That way, we can hit the goal of having a polyphonic* texture for the assessment. It was also help us when we need something to fall back on if we forget where we are. More so, Nebby.”

“Wowww, so I’m just here to get you extra marks?” I tease her.

“Hey, you don’t have a group either, so it’s extra marks for you too,” she says, landing a comeback. What is with all these comebacks today?

“Pluto Kerberos,” a voice from the front echoes through the room — it’s Ms. Windhart.

“Present,” I say, putting my hand up.

And as the roll is slowly marked, I make my way to the performance room. “It’s a simple piece, so don’t worry. I wouldn’t make it hard for you and it would be more work for me,” Ratani says to me.

“But what if I want a challenge?” I ask, giving a lighthearted rhetorical question.

Entering the large performance room, I direct my gaze from the shiny wooden floor and the blaring stage lights, to the grand piano placed nicely in the room. I immediately take a run for the piano, knowing that this is the one opportunity I’ll get to use it since I usually use the keyboard in the other room.

“Wow, and the pianist of the year award goes to,” a typical, high school boy with scruffy black hair, tie very loosened, and collar very undone, decides to take a shot at teasing me, “the one and only, Pluto!” Of course, it’s Nebby.

“Hello, Nebby. Nice to see you too,” I reply, loading a lot of sarcasm into my word ammo.

Taking a closer look at Nebby, he seems to be wearing his typical fit. Silver chain on his neck, silver hoops on his belt. His shoes are quite shiny and polished, yet contrastingly, his blazer is completely missing. His fit just speaks “rebel”.

“So, is he joining our two-piece band now?” Nebby asks, looking towards Ratani. He flips a coin, landing on tails.

“Yeah, he is. We need a pianist, remember?” Ratani replies, as she walks and moves to the AC panel, turning the air conditioning on.

“Right, right. Well, that’s fun! Now, we can finally get this assessment done,” he replies, as he reaches his violin case, carefully grabbing his bow and using rosin to polish it. I quietly set up the piano, making sure the cover isn’t blocking the keys. Meanwhile, Ratani leaves the room to talk to Ms. Windhart.

She quickly returns and approaches my location. “Here’s the score,” she says, handing me a small set of paper, stapled together in a neat manner, “it’s not a long piece, so don’t worry too much.”

She begins to whisper, “I’m more worried about Nebby getting his parts right anyway. I know you’ll do great.” I can’t tell if she’s joking or not. Anyway, I think she was oblivious enough to not notice her simple whisper echoing through the large room.

“You know that I can hear you, right?” Nebby notices, looking straight at Ratani.

As we practice quite diligently in the performance room with some occasional procrastination, we finish polishing the first part of the piece. During our practice session, I lost a bet with Ratani, since she said that Nebby wouldn’t be able to actually learn much today and I said he would. Turns out, I was very wrong. That was a lost cause anyway.

He also accidentally smashed his rosin on the ground too either by accident or on purpose. I can’t really tell. So, Ratani and I had to painfully pick up all the tiny bits of rosin on the ground. The rosin was quite sticky too, which was not a pleasant experience. I don’t even remember why I decided to group up with them.

Luckily enough, the bell made a solemn, discrete chime — an indicator for us to finally take a break from the pretty exhausting day so far.

I head to the cafeteria to grab my free lunch for the day, remembering that I have a scholarship that I should actually use to the fullest.

And as I head to the collection area, I’m greeted by a nice, warm smile from a kind lady, eager to guide me through the food collection process. “What’s your name, dear?” She asks.

“Pluto Kerberon,” I reply.

“Ah, Mr. Kerberon,” she replies, “lovely to meet you again this morning.”

She looks down at the tablet she’s holding, typing a few things. Hopefully, she gets my last name right. It’s sort of hard to spell, so I can’t blame her if she does.

“Alright, all set,” she continues, typing a few more things into the small tablet afterwards, “so today, we’ve prepared a steak and gravy with chips on the side. I hope that’s alright for you.”

“Yeah, of course!” I say. Having this kind of lunch every day is already a blessing in my eyes. I wait patiently, as I slowly head down the line in order to collect my food.

I look across the cafeteria, seeing chairs and tables filled with people eating and chatting. The cafeteria’s quite large, with a glass dome letting all the morning sunlight through. Of course, it blinds me every time I look up there.

I scan the room for familiar faces and the first one that I see is Jupiter, gracefully eating another steak and gravy… with chips on the side.

I approach his bench, seeing a few familiar and unfamiliar faces. “Hey there,” I greet him. He looks back to figure out who just said hi to him like I’m some stranger, then quickly realises that it’s me.

“Hello,” he says, looking at me like I’m supposed to ask a question or something. Oh right, yeah.

“Can I sit here?” I ask.

“Yeah, sure,” he replies, as I awkwardly sit down on the chair next to him.

“Oh, right. You probably don’t know this people,” he says, his speech quivering in a mix of nervousness, shyness, and probably social awkwardness.

“This is Dunkan,” he says, as the person he’s pointing nods. Dunkan seems to be a friendly person at first glance, wearing his tie in a quite orderly fashion. Some of the buttons on his suit seem to be undone, most likely for comfortability. His glasses seem to be reminiscent of a square shape, engraved in Japanese writing and painted with an oak brown and monochrome, grey-ish colour. His shoes seem to be laced up quite neatly and his overall attire is nearly as prim and proper as Jupiter. Funnily enough, his messenger bag radiates a sort of fun energy, showing off a duck sticker with another sticker of grapes next to it.

“And this is Monsie,” Jupiter continues. Looking at Monsie, he seems to be quite a casual and laid-back sort of person. Not even wearing a tie and wearing a silly “holy cow” pin on his shirt, which I don’t even think is allowed under our institutional guidelines. I guess you could say he’s sort of a rebel, but he seems to have a kind-hearted personality overall. I give him my seal of approval.

“And finally, we have Kapan,” Jupiter says. Kapan seems to have a quite tall stature, sort of around my height. I’ve also seen him around working for our student council, doing all the speeches for the assemblies he definitely doesn’t want to do, and being a cheerful but unhinged friend to those I’ve seen him interact with. As per student council regulations, he’s as prim and proper as Jupiter is. Yes, Jupiter’s basically my benchmark for a student’s uniform since he’s always well-dressed everyday.

“Nice to meet you all,” I say, with a slight smile on my face. “Sorry if I made it awkward here, I just don’t exactly know where all my friends are.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Kapan replies, “You’re welcome to sit here if you want. Plus, I’ve seen you around doing all your piano works. You’re also a really good singer by the way.” I’m utterly shocked by the compliment. Wait, he’s seen my performances too?

“Thanks,” I reply, taking it with grace.

We all continue eating our own lunches, with a few mishaps along the way — mishaps being Dunkan accidentally spilling a bit of water on the table. No worries though, we were able to clean it up. I also had to sit through Kapan complaining about the fact that he had to wear pants today for assembly, but that’s honestly understandable. These pants can get uncomfortable after a while, especially when you’re used to shorts.

It was a nice lunch with those four, never expected to meet his friends. What a surprise that I haven’t, actually.

The bell chimes once more, as I’m finally out of this institute. The subjects after my first break quickly drained all of my energy and now, I just want to go home.

Then, out of nowhere, my phone begins to chime. I check it quickly as I see a little bubble pop up on my screen.

ratanian42 (ratani): hey, you coming to the coffee meetup this afternoon?
plutonian (me): oops i forgot about that lol
plutonian: yeah ill go, be there in a sec
[seen 3:05pm]

Redirecting my route from going to my home to the cool shop downtown, I make sure to tie my laces once more and start marching down to the one and only…

Hot Brew Café.

✮ ✮ ✮

Wow. This chapter was longer than I expected, but don’t worry… there’s more coming!

Signing off, Davo

* polyphonic — independent melodies running at the same time; thick in texture